Palmarin

What next to tell?  Palmarin, a quaint fishing village about 2 1/2 hours south of Dakar was my destination over the weekend.  To get there--if you don't have your own car--you need to hitch a ride.  In Senegal that means reserving a seat in a "sept-places" 7-seat vehicle.  Well, if you're like me, you're thinking of a mini-van.  Well, hate to bust your bubble, wrong again!  A sept-place is a 1975 broken down Renault or Datsun sationwagon.  That's right.  And just like when some of us were kids, you have to climb in and bend your head somewhat permanently to position yourself in the back row.  So, for about $8/person you buy a seat in this Indiana Jones adventure and hope that the story has a happy ending.  The trip in reality took 4 hours because after 2 hours of unrelenting traffic jams, the paved road became an African red dirt path laden with potholes deep enough for a baptismal immersion.  It did not help that the rainy season, which everyone in Senegal was certain had ended, decided to come back with vengeance over the weekend.  The road was impassable, as the stationwagon swerved from edge to edge valiantly trying to dodge or minimize the unforgivable terrain.  At wits end, the driver decided to head off into the bush with the vehicle trying to find the much narrower, yet more stable donkey-and-cart path.  So, there we were, in the middle of the jungle.  I felt like I was in a scene of a Vietnam war movie, trying to run away from--or sneak up upon--the Vietcong.  Now at times, a donkey or horse did show up on the path, but if you're reading this, you know which side won!  So, Palmarin, you ask, how was it?...Absolutely divine.  We found an "encampment" right on the beach to call home for the night.  Palm trees, tropical flora, white sand beaches, lazy waves, meandering cows, goats, dogs...all sharing and adding to this picture perfect scene.  I went with Inge, one of the other Fulbright teachers, and Abdoulaye, our "first" Senegalese friend.  Ablaye, as his friends call him, is from Palmarin, and he wanted to take us to his home and village.  His mother was wonderfully hospitable, as she cooked meals for Inge and me, while she, Abdoulaye, and everyone else fasted on account of Ramadan.  It was so beautiful and unselfish an act.  She and everyone there embodied genuine kindness, and now I know why so many people fall in love with Senegal...